Guilt
by AnimationNut
Summary: Mowgli is racked with guilt over the death of Akela and his actions with the Red Flower. He believes that it should've been him that Shere Khan killed. Baloo and Bagheera refuse to let him burden himself with such notions. Rated T to be safe.


**I do not own The Jungle Book.**

 **This story is fuelled by my love for Bagheera, Mowgli and Baloo; and inspired by The Jungle Book fanfic** _ **Promise**_ **by AngelOfPride.**

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 **Guilt**

Mowgli awoke with a start, a strangled gasp catching in his throat so that, for a moment, it was difficult to breathe. His cracked nails bit into the stone floor as he shoved himself up into a sitting position. His heart thudded madly in his chest, pounding loud in his ears. He squinted around the dark cave, not as gifted with his sight as his wolf brethren. He was relieved to see he had not disturbed anyone, for they would surely wonder what caused him to wake up in such a state and he could not bear to talk about it.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Mowgli rose unsteadily to his feet. He padded across the floor, careful not to step on any tails or paws. When he moved outside the den, he could see dawn beginning to break on the horizon. Yellow-orange rays began to pierce through the darkness, growing brighter by the second. He tried to take in some fresh air but it did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his chest. Swallowing thickly, he started to walk, venturing into the jungle he loved so much.

…and nearly destroyed.

The Red Flower consuming the wildlife, thick black smoke melding with the inky sky and intense heat stifling the air. This image and the sensations were seared into his mind and he couldn't stop thinking about it, what he had done. He should have known better. He knew the destructive capabilities of the Red Flower. He had been warned many times, by Raksha, Bagheera, Baloo…and Akela.

The thought of his deceased alpha caused Mowgli's eyes to well with hot tears. He had been so desperate to avenge Akela he nearly killed the jungle itself in the process. The only reason nothing was burnt to a crisp was because of the elephants. They put out the flames, but the scars remained—much of the plant life was scorched. It would be many rainfalls before the greenery returned to full health.

Overwhelming guilt and anguish churned through the small boy. After the first night after the battle with Shere Khan, Mowgli started to process everything that had taken place. He felt so horrible that it made him sick. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and it was getting harder to keep a smile on his face. He desperately wanted to speak with his mother, Bagheera and Baloo, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. What right did he have? What right did he have when everything was his fault?

Miserable, he dropped down to the dirt, bracing his back against the bark of a tree. He drew his knees against his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He buried his head and let the tears fall, warm tracks against his cheeks. He stayed in that position for a while, until he heard the familiar sound of heavy paws thudding against the earth. He hastily raised his head and cleared the tears from his eyes and face before they were noticed.

Bagheera emerged from the thicket, bright yellow eyes flickering with relief when they landed on the child before turning into annoyance. "Mowgli, you know you're not supposed to run off by yourself," he scolded.

"Sorry. Just wanted to go on a walk," Mowgli muttered.

The thicket shook once more as Baloo lumbered through. He let out a groan as he plopped down on the ground. "Geez, kid, don't you know how to sleep in?"

"Sure. Bagheera sometimes gets mad at me for it."

He tried to smile, but the effort it took almost hurt. His companions were not at all fooled by the façade he attempted to put on, for his eyes, normally so bright and happy, were dull. Bagheera regarded his ward intently.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

Flinching slightly at Bagheera's sharp reprimand, Mowgli stared at the ground. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, you love to talk, almost more than I do. You've been real quiet lately," observed Baloo, "and you haven't been eating much. Tell old Baloo and Bagheera what's taken away your smile."

The raven-haired boy was unable to contain his guilt any longer. Hugging his legs tightly, he whispered, "It's all my fault."

Baloo and Bagheera exchanged concerned glances before focussing on the distraught child. "What's your fault?" asked the panther gently.

"I nearly destroyed the jungle with the Red Flower. You told me not to mess with it, but I did anyway."

"You were trying to use the Red Flower to stop Shere Khan. You didn't mean to do what you did, but you know what? If you didn't bring the Red Flower into the jungle, you may not have stopped Shere Khan."

Bagheera gave an approving nod at Baloo's words of comfort. "He's right, Mowgli."

Mowgli regarded his friends uncertainly. "I killed Shere Khan. I'm everything he said I was—a man."

"No, you're not," said Bagheera sternly. "Man kills for sport. You killed Shere Khan because it was the only way to save yourself."

"It should've been me."

The words left him before he could really think about them, the words he had been dwelling on ever since he learned of Akela's death.

Baloo and Bagheera stiffened at this, and the panther asked with a low growl, "What do you mean by that?"

"Akela's dead because of me!" Mowgli cried, tears cascading once more down his cheeks. "Shere Khan should've killed me!"

With a roar that echoed throughout the landscape, Bagheera lunged forwards so that he was inches away from the boy's face, his paw resting firmly on the small chest. "You will _not_ say such things again! Do you hear me?"

The ferocity behind his words startled Mowgli into silence. He stared up with wide, wet dark eyes. "Bagheera…"

"All right, let's all calm down," spoke Baloo soothingly. He maneuvered over so that he was sitting beside Mowgli. After a moment, Bagheera stepped back, breathing heavily. He laid down on Mowgli's other side, intense yellow eyes never leaving his man-cub. Uncharacteristically serious, the sloth bear said, "Never, _ever_ blame yourself for Akela's death. You got it? That was all Shere Khan."

"But he wanted _me_ ," Mowgli said miserably, rubbing at his stinging eyes. "He killed Akela because he sent me away."

"If he knew the outcome of his decision, and I truly believe he had some suspicion, it wouldn't have mattered. He would give his life for you a hundred times over if it meant you would be safe." Bagheera rested his forehead lightly against Mowgli's, erasing some of the creases that had developed on his brow. "You were a part of his Pack, and a part of him. Akela would never have forgiven himself if he let anything happen to you."

Bagheera leaned back, allowing the boy space to mull over his words. Mowgli stared at his hands, nibbling on his bottom lip. The weight that had been heavy in his stomach was starting to lighten, as if Bagheera and Baloo were speaking magic words. But he could still feel the guilt, a stubborn, uncomfortable presence that he couldn't seem to shake.

"I know he would," he said softly. "Have done anything to protect me, I mean. But…I still feel bad."

Baloo hated to see such sadness on his man-cub's face, and wished he had given Shere Khan a greater beating for all the turmoil he put Mowgli through. He nudged the boy's arm tenderly, lifting his dark eyes up to meet his. "You might feel rotten for a while. But that's okay. Sometimes living the good life has some rough spots. If it ever gets to be too much, talk to us, kid."

Their support and love for him eliminated the lingering shreds of darkness. "Okay. I will," he said softly with a smile. "I feel better now."

"Good. We will not have you burdened with such notions," declared Bagheera.

Mowgli's stomach gave a particularly loud growl then, causing him to grin sheepishly. "Oops. Guess I'm ready for breakfast."

"I second that!" declared Baloo, getting to his paws and shaking out his fur. "What are we waiting for? We should never keep food waiting."

Giggling at that, Mowgli got his feet. He and Bagheera trailed after Baloo, whose talented nose instantly detected a fruit tree. After shaking down a decent pile of the sweet food, they all plopped down at the base and began to eat. Mowgli felt at ease once the juice hit his tongue and soothed his stomach.

Contentment rose within him, and the guilt that had been gnawing away at him was now just a small pulse. He would always mourn the loss of Akela, the one who accepted him into his Pack and protected him. He could not blame himself, when it was Shere Khan made the unnecessary killing blow. He had been the object of the tiger's irrational obsession. Death was the only option to end his deadly wrath.

When he finished eating, his eyes were heavy and he struggled to keep them open. Not missing the boy's fatigue, Bagheera ordered, "Sleep."

"I'm not tired," mumbled Mowgli, even as a large yawn escaped him.

"Yeah, and I'm not going to eat the rest of this fruit," scoffed Baloo. "Who're you kidding?"

Unable to fight the exhaustion, Mowgli sagged against Baloo's side, feet tucked underneath Bagheera. The warmth from their bodies surrounded him, soothing him, as he lay between his two protectors. He soon fell into a peaceful slumber, not once dreaming of ash and fire, but of the bright jungle he called home.


End file.
